


Call Outs

by NepentheERA



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Arguing, Blood, F/M, Grievous Injury, Relationship Woes, Surgery, bunnyribbit, remember to never tilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:47:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25804606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NepentheERA/pseuds/NepentheERA
Summary: Overwatch- the video game- is fundamentally about communication, where success or failure hinge primarily upon which team simply communicated the best. Overwatch- the organization- keeps the lives of its agents protected as best it can through the use of cooperative communication. What will happen when Lúcio and D.Va experience a fatal breakdown in communication on a mission against Talon?
Relationships: Lúcio Correia dos Santos/Hana "D.Va" Song
Kudos: 7





	Call Outs

The landing on the pier was a delicate task. Sharp winds buffeted rainwater against the Orca ship’s hull, while the 11 o’ clock hour killed visibility for pilot Ray even with the spotlights. Decades of experience took over, and with the meditative concentration of a perfectionist he was able to get his two occupants down without error. AI assistant Athena announced over the speakers in a warm tone: “Welcome to Rialto.” Normally Ray would’ve suggested a smaller ship for that low of an occupancy, until he learned one of them was carrying a few tons of MEKA cargo.

The second occupant was quick to undo their safety harnesses. Lúcio had never been to Venice since his original concert tour skipped it. Since he could afford these opportunities he was hungry to experience all of the square's offerings. This moment in life was even better since Hana was often with him. They’d met a year ago in Hollywood; Lúcio said he watched all of her gaming streams, and she eagerly admitted she bought his album and other EPs. After that they discovered they had too much in common to remain mere fans. When they could find time between his music and her military stints they made sure to pair up on missions to bust up a few Talon or Null Sector cells. Any excuse for an exotic vacation.

“Betcha it clears up when we get done,” he set down his phone, took the last two crackers from an open pack in the armrest’s holster, and handed her one, “Whaddaya say we hit the streets after this, find some real food?”

“Yeah.”

Lúcio cocked his head as she looked away somewhere, and withdrew his offer with a mild shirk. He ate his but put hers back in the pack. That was curt. Thinking about it, she’d been pretty quiet the entire flight. It had been a long one. Maybe she was tired.

“Well hey, we don’t have to be out to eat. There’s this amazing hotel, close to the art museum,” he swiped through tabs on his phone to show her, “They’ve got this room available, see? Beautiful view. And room service is 24 hours, so we can order one of everything like we did last time, remember?” 

He gave a high-pitched, innocent giggle at the memory of that long phone call, a laugh that was reflexive but no less of an icebreaker for Hana. He could always make her smile, eventually. Or so he thought, as he realized he’d been talking to himself while she undid her own restraints. 

Heat rushed through his body. He swallowed and looked sideways as she got up.  _ Oh man _ , he thought. He wouldn’t have said anything unkind or untoward to her, would he? Of course not. Never. But he was known to be overbearing. His excitable energy and omnipresent need to take charge could be a quick aggravation for many. Perhaps he hadn’t been letting her get her say in this.

“Or uh, hey! Maybe there’s some gaming bars around this place. Think how people would react to world champion D.Va walking into a spot like that. You’d either triple profits or run everyone out, haha! Would you like that?”

“Maybe. Come on, we gotta go.”

Lúcio broke to say something, but she was already inside her MEKA, Tokki as she called it. The rabbit-esque machine had recently been refurbished. Without the scuffs of battle and fading sponsorship decals, its pink coloration and high reflections underneath the ship lights could blind someone at the right angle. It began a raptor walk towards the descending hatch door while he connected his Amplifier gun to an arm cable. His suit and skate blades lit up green as a thumping trance track played. But the buzz of rain and stirring waves filled the cabin at top volume. Ray screamed towards them: “You’re only a few minutes out! Call me if you need a quick lift!” Lúcio turned to give a thumbs up before he chased after Hana onto the pier.

A shock of cold went through his core. He shuddered, brushed water from his face, and skated underneath Tokki’s cockpit. The new suit he developed would keep him dry enough, but the carioca wasn’t used to this. A few minutes by flight would be half an hour of huffing it, and the exercise would warm him up. They were to make their way around the Rialto center proper, behind the old Gothic buildings and through wet, narrow alleyways, down the sleeping esplanades, until they reached another dock on the northeast end. Once here, they would double back towards a large mansion right off the shore.

The home had been Antonio’s, a fat, crooked slime who rolled with the government and Talon’s upper echelon. He’d been killed around a decade ago in a failed Overwatch sting. The mortal wound Overwatch suffered from the operation made the site a bit of sacred ground. As other top dogs scrambled to fill his place, low-key Talon activity resumed at the manor in his honor. Right now they housed some stolen data that had been swiped in a prior mission. Lúcio volunteered to lead the recovery, and he insisted Hana be his only partner.

  
  


Metallic clangs on the cobblestone accompanied Tokki’s walk. A few porch lanterns and the jade lights of his equipment provided shades of detail of the slanted buildings and their old, chipped doors. The shops and apartments provided some shelter from the weather, thus he could hear better. But all he heard was the rain and Tokki. Its headlights were off; Hana must’ve been navigating by radar or something. Lúcio looked up and blinked from the water. It was still quiet. Under normal circumstances there would be optimistic bragging on how they’d dominate the mission in perfect unison, exaggerated threats to evil-doers who dare stand in the way of the world’s greatest heroes. He missed it. Maybe he could ebb some of that out of her.

“Hanaaaa~,” he sang over the radio, “I bet you’re plannin’ somethin’ big, right? What are we gonna do this time? You launch into the top window and I skim in after again? Or do we blow the first floor up and just demand the laptop— Oh wait! Haha, you wanna blow up Tokki?  _ I  _ want you to blow up Tokki. Winston said the case could survive. Although, that might cause some collateral damage…. Yeah, that’s too much. Overwatch is already 0 and 1 here, right?”

Hana sighed and loosened her jaw. Her mic was off, but he knew. His shoulders sagged, followed by his sights, down to his blades which undulated back and forth to propel him along. Something horrible was wrong. Lúcio pushed forward a little harder, gliding from underneath her and to her side. He saw through the green-tinted glass her brown eyes locked ahead, small face taut with aggravation. A gloved hand wiped along the top of his braided hair and down his neck. There was always the sentimental option.

“Hey, Hana. I don’t know if I say this often enough, but...I really like you, and I like being around you. Even if we  _ are _ in a cold, damp alleyway in Italy—”

“Like I want to be in a cold, damp alleyway in Italy.”

His stomach jumped. His top half clenched up, then relaxed when he had to answer.

“Didn’t mean it like that, uh. I mean, I enjoy spending time with you wherever we are. And….”

“Trust me, I know that. I can’t help but not know. You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to come.”

Embarrassment swept through his veins. He paused before jogging forward. He tried to remember the conversation with her, then with Winston. There were black spots. Gaps. He couldn’t pinpoint any fault. Or maybe he didn’t want to? Sure, he had been forward about the whole thing, but still. He didn’t just drag her along. He wouldn’t. Would he?

“But...we always go on missions together. I thought—”

“You thought I had nothing else better to do.”

_ Wait, better?  _ He heard her sigh this time and looked up in wait for an answer.

“It’s fine. If we do this fast enough I can make it back to Busan in time. Come on!”

Tokki trotted forward. He rebounded off of a light pole to regain the pace.

In time, Lúcio ceased to be cold. The rain faded from sensation even as he now trailed a few meters behind. He wanted to keep his heartbeat steady; conserving energy would be necessary for any firefights. Just as well, heavy thoughts were like ankle weights. 

‘ _ You thought I had nothing else better to do.’  _

Of course not! Korea had yet to find a solution to the regular Gwishin omnic attacks. Anytime she could leave her post was a miracle. Meanwhile, Vishkar had been a more benign threat, wrapped up in federal investigations over their inhumane crackdowns in Rio a few years ago, and yet he still had to keep vigilance. So he knew as well as anyone could know. He would never assume there wasn’t an important duty she was beholden to. 

Pain welled in his throat, and his eyes widened. Why would she say something so dismissive about him? He would give her that perhaps he had been hasty, but the insinuation that he didn’t care? Rubbish. He huffed and squinted in a frown. Funny. She was being selfish herself, trying to hurt him for wanting to spend some time together. She only sprung it on him when they were already half-way across the world. How was he to have known? Lúcio lifted his head higher. He’d dealt with- and was still dealing with- worse blows. He couldn’t be compromised by the silliness of it all anyway, not as the mansion came into view around the bend. He would get them in and out smooth as silk. Then she could go.

The mansion was unmistakable: a rose-colored, three-story manor beset with a long courtyard bordered by high arcades. Being in the same architectural style as the rest of the center proper it fit in remarkably well aside from its size, and a single boarded-up window.

The two agents laid at the corner of the alley, closest to the eastern side. Lúcio hummed; the courtyard was an enticing prospect due to its abandonment. It would be no trouble to get in through one of the staircases and make their way through room by room. He could scout, ambush, and cause distractions while Hana could clean up and, if need be, let loose all firepower. It hadn’t been long since the data theft, so however much of Talon was present would be on high alert. The hardest part would be getting in undetected before an escape was arranged.

“Can you track any signatures over there?”

“Not from this far away.”

She was already boosting towards the back of the manor. Lúcio gawked. He stuttered her name and reached out before hopping to attention and rebounding after her. 

Six black-clad Troopers with red helmets loitered at the back of the mansion. Whirring jet engines broke through the heavy rain. In an instant Tokki was on top of them. They jumped, lifted their rifles, and fired into the green digital field of its Defense Matrix. The bullets vanished in an arpeggio of pings. As Lúcio was arriving she returned fire on four of them. The first strafed backwards while returning enough fire to weaken the windshield before going down. The second, down on their back, gasped. Green streaks arced through the curtain of rain towards them. They fired at the sight before Hana finished them off. Lúcio barked and withdrew midair before he stumbled to a stop. His left bicep burned from a bleeding graze wound, and he Crossfaded to another, gentler song. Green lights switched to yellow, and in a few seconds the wound was gone.

“Hana! What was that?!”

“The only place that computer is gonna be is in the back, here, in the deepest part of the manor. So, we bust in right where it is. Wasn’t that one of your plans?”

“So  _ now _ you listen to me talk! Look,” he huffed, “I don’t mind going in guns blazing but you gotta tell me first. We can’t be staggered.”

She knew this. He knew she knew this. But he would chalk that up to militaristic reflex. It saved their lives enough times, so he took her groan on the chin. Tokki leaned to the side as if it had eyes to roll.

“I know that. But I knew you weren’t too far behind.” 

She banged open the double doors and squeezed in. Lúcio made it a point to stay close. The fight outside had alerted the interior. Both of them were down in the wide open foyer, only separated from harm by arches, columns, and a second-story walkway on the other three sides. Troopers were scattered like wolves all through the halls and upper story, only visible in the moonlit dark by their reflective helmets.

Lúcio’s lungs seized up. Every rifle proceeded to light up the room. He ducked behind one of Tokki’s legs while an arm snapped towards the nearest Trooper and fired an entire four-round volley into them. He kept low along the walls and behind arches as Tokki walked forward shooting an endless barrage at the enemies on the ground. Defense Matrix could only swallow so much of the barrage; between bursts, she would let the MEKA take the hits before boosting back into his musical range. She would then Matrix, boost around, and pick off key targets before going back and forth, dancing on the threshold of being with Tokki and being without. It was an eroding edge. Sparks flew from Tokki’s leg joints, and her HUD was fraught with a mild film of static. The paint job had been fatally marred with scrapes and indentations.

With her antics, Lucio was pinned behind a column and couldn’t risk it to gauge her condition himself. The radio was unresponsive to his checks. They wouldn’t last hunkered down. With the bare minimum of coordination they could get to high ground with a good body-block from her. From that vantage point, it would be a cakewalk to either get through the hall or let them whittle down the incoming forces—

A large shadow moved. He whirled around to catch Hana now clearing out several Troopers on the second floor. The whiff of a supersonic bullet shooting past his temple urged him back behind his cover. Marble chunks and dust flew forward. 

Now she was doing it on purpose. He looked leftward. The platform she was on didn’t reach the end of the short wall closest to him which left a traversable gap. Her sudden verticality had drawn much of the fire away. He could get up there with her. Hopefully.

With grit teeth he lunged forward into a slalom across the red carpets and old tile. He spiraled up a column and proved himself an unpredictable target. After a pounce towards the wall, he corner-hopped upwards before vaulting over the walkway’s guardrail. He skated across and around downed bodies, sending suppressive fire downwards until he caught up to the MEKA already having made its way into the next area through a decorative window.

“Hana!” he came in over the radio, “Can you wait a second?!”

“Wait? What’s wrong?”

“I almost got nailed because of you!”

“Because of me?! No! You don’t need to follow me at every step; you know that! I can take these guys out no problem. You complain about everyone else not covering themselves as best they can.”

Lúcio seethed through his teeth.

“I don’t care how fast you wanna go back home! I wanna go home too! I can’t even peel for you if you keep leaving me behind! Your MEKA looks terrible! Now look here!  _ I’m _ the leader of this operation, and you’re gonna—”

Tokki stopped and turned to leer.

“I didn’t ask for your help, Lúcio! Or any of this! You may have signed us up for this circus, but I’ve got far more years on the front line than you will ever manage, even back in Rio! These punks aren’t a big deal!” she shot out a nearby window, “I can't do everything. If you’re too distracted to keep yourself safe, then please…go back to Ray. I don’t want you hurt. I’ll get the laptop.”

She boosted forward alone. Troopers from both sides would arrive upon him in seconds. He flinched from the rain and gave a miserable glance to the concrete below. He could wait on her, be out of the way. Despite the inevitable damage sustained to Tokki, he hadn’t been worried about her safety this entire time. She was right…. But that was only so far. With this amount of resistance in the halls, it could ramp up the closer they got to the target. Eventually Tokki wouldn’t last, and neither would she. It’d happened before. He dashed forward with an Amp, boosting his music volume and speed far and away past the Troopers’ sight lines.

Hana was persistent in mowing down any Troopers no matter how continuous the waves were. It left Lúcio with those seeking to catch up from the first room. He kept pace, made more arduous by the nervous Crossfades to his Heal song to counteract flanks. A few times he had to scrap, ducking below any melees and dashing around and over his target until he could knock them out or was forced to retreat again. 

Eventually Hana slammed her way onto a wide stairwell protected by walls. She let Lúcio pass by her as the last Troopers funneled in. He braced himself; Micro Missiles swished back downstairs and sent rumbles through the entire structure as they tore through the last defenses. He tensed from the heat and smoke coating his airways and gripped Tokki's leg through the shockwaves. Afterwards, both of them waited. Nothing left but the crumbling of the walls and the sizzle of settling dust.

"I think that's the last of 'em— Whoa-oh."

His crutch leaned away to position its three-toed foot to continue climbing. He grumbled but followed her to the top without a real word. An office lay at the top, or at least a huge space strangely dedicated as such. The neatly-arranged desk in front of the boarded window and the bookcases that wafted biblichor around the area were not enough to make efficient use of the open floor plan. Mayhaps it was the questionable taste of an old-school manic, or a set-up, and Lúcio rasped a whisper as Hana stepped forward without caution.

"Wait a second! Let's look at this."

"Why are you so scared? We're finished here," she insisted as she found the heavy-duty case at the opposite side of the desk.

"An excellent choice of words," purred a woman in a French accent. 

A round punctured Tokki's window right next to Hana's head. Lúcio heard it half a second later and rushed to her side. The telltale red tracer line lead his sight across the hall to a sliver of a woman hanging upside-down from the center of the roof. Moonlight hit her enough to reveal oddly-blue skin and a black ponytail that almost doubled her height. No doubt; it was The Widowmaker. They’d heard from good friend Tracer the story of an old colleague’s eye having been shot off with the ease of a cat snatching a moth in mid-flight. Indeed, Tracer unnerved them after she abandoned her cheesy theatrics to recall not just the skill but the apathy with which The Widowmaker killed. Tracer witnessed her assassinate Mondatta, an omnic civil rights leader, and her response to the international grief? A benign chuckle. To underestimate The Widowmaker was to dive head first into the grave.

"I should've known such an abysmal breach was being carried out by two insufferable children. Back away from the case. And before you choose to defy me: I don't miss." Her scope zoomed in.

"Hana....  _ Wait. _ " 

She had them dead to rights. Sudden movements could be fatal. At this point, he didn’t know what to do. Or rather, he didn’t know if he should’ve bothered with an attempt to formulate a strategy.

Hana had no such qualms. The accuracy of even the top humans was no comparison to the Gwishin even five generations ago. She boosted forward with Defense Matrix active. Lúcio skated around to the desk.

The Widowmaker fell about a foot before grappling backwards towards the opposite end of the hall. Tokki was at her heels. She fired one shot, clipping an edge on the hull. She landed on the walkway right before Tokki did, the force of which threw her on her side. A hot arm barrel aimed at her face.

"Thought you said you didn't miss!"

"I don't."

Panic beset over Hana. She lurched Tokki around. There was neither a green or yellow glow to quickly assess the situation, just a faint signature. She leaned forward in her restraints. Lúcio was laid out next to the desk. As she returned to him the case was snatched from under his arm by the hook and into The Widowmaker’s grasp.

"Puh. Typical." She faded away.

  
  


Lúcio was still conscious, but it was an embattled, instinctual state of misery. He didn't know whether to try to get up or remain hunched into himself. He tried to cry out, but the sounds filtered into stilted groans and wheezes. Fear dashed around his stomach. Something touched him and tried to turn him over. He was unaware he was struggling against it.

"God no, Lúcio, no," Hana whimpered as she fumbled about his body. 

Blood erased the logo from his shirt. A hole went from his left pectoral out through his shattered equipment which vibrated with every gasp he took. She grabbed his gloved hands and pressed them down into his wound. The pain swelled underneath the pressure. He finally screamed.

"I'm sorry, Lú, I'm—! Just keep them like that for me!" 

She couldn't wait to see if he could follow the instructions. In seconds Tokki was cradling him. She went back to the window she directed him to earlier and took off. As she established navigation to a hospital she talked to get him to concentrate on basic questions like his name and birthday. He would stutter or growl out the answers through ragged breaths, but halfway through the trip there was slow, unattentive mumbling. Suddenly:

"So cold…."

His head lolled to the side. His eyes were half open and glazed. He was slipping away. Tokki boosted faster. She rolled her quivering lips before making a call.

"Ray?!"

"What the—" she sounded horrified, "What's going on?!"

"Lúcio's been shot!"

"I can scramble—"

"There's no time!"

"Don't say that! Where are you?"

"Going to the hospital— It's right there! Just try to pull Angela! I'll call you back!" She hung up.

Despite public calls for an investigation at Antonio's home the emergency lanes had been relatively slow tonight. It never lasted for too long, as one technician always resigned. Soon her work mates were yammering on towards the air, and she jumped from the back of a van to see a pink MEKA unit boosting straight for them. The crowd scattered, but Tokki stuck the landing and lowered its cannon arms. Lúcio was in a ball, quieter now but still shivering.

She could only sob a few unintelligible pleas for help before the technicians' curiosity of seeing Lúcio in the flesh led them to uncover his state. He was strapped to a gurney and wheeled in as they sliced his shirt in half. Hana jumped from Tokki and chased after. The Italian was beyond her, but their tone was pointed. Were they simply working, or fighting against hope? It wasn't long before he was taken behind a pair of ominous white double doors. She was blocked by a nurse who pointed to a foreign language sign. Her face twisted up. She bit her lip, and crumpled into the nurse's arms.

  
  


The bilingual surgeon would come in and out at long intervals. What was supposed to be two hours became three, then four, then five. Gunshot wounds were never routine. The small puncture hid a lung perforation and pneumothorax, a snapped rib, a shattered scapula, tears, contusions— just problem after problem. Now wrapped in a thin blanket in an uncomfortable chair, she never looked at his eyes, never answered beyond "okay" and "thank you." There was good news somewhere in how confident the surgeon was and how long it was taking. But this routine wasn't new. She was waiting for him to finally approach without his mask and gloves, like what had happened to many a crewmate of hers. She learned to swallow it down after the second one died, but Lúcio was different. He could be a crewmate one moment, and her nurse, chef, gaming opponent, therapist, or lover the next; sometimes all of these in a single day. And she had left him there. She threw him away to die. His last memories of her would be fraught with anger and pleading. She deserved to lose him.

After the sixth hour she collapsed. It would be another two before she was stirred.

"Ms. D.Va. He's waking up now. You can go—" That's all she needed. 

She dragged the surgeon to the ward like a bulldog until he pointed out his room, but she stopped herself after gaining entrance. Lúcio lay in bed, his left arm relaxed in a sling. Underneath was a wrapped shoulder, and a large surgical pad and drainage tube attached to his chest. A faint whiff of anesthesia clouded around him. His face, framed with messy loose dreadlocks, was somehow the worst: an oxygen mask muzzled him underneath baggy eyes. He looked as if he was staring past the plane of existence, waiting to pass on.

Hana hung her head and slinked past the nurse who had finished inserting an IV line after the third attempt. She sat and looked at him; he struggled to look back. She surged to the edge of breaking down again, but the surgeon pulled her away.

"Don't worry; he's going to be drunk for a while. We've got him on some nice medications to make him comfortable. He can’t feel a thing. You did very well in getting him here as fast as you did. It’ll take some time, but he'll be okay, Miss." He bit back uncharitable predictions about his arm's potential function and dismissed himself after another thank-you.

Hana leaned on Lúcio's shoulder. He nodded in reflex, rolled his head on top of hers with a moan, and fell asleep for what would be another hour and a half. She needed to follow suit, but the doctor's words nagged at her like a burrowing botfly.  _ 'You did very well.'  _ Like hell she did. How could those words even cross his lips after having to fix everything wrong with him? They could've grabbed the case and backed off, negate the incoming shots with a Defense Matrix. They get back to Ray and maybe she dresses him down more on the ride back to Gibraltar. He'd wallow in sadness like a chastised puppy, then say the most pathetic or stupid thing to get her laughing again. What could she even say to him once he was conscious? She couldn't find the words, but regardless of if she waffled or was beset with brevity he would certainly understand, even embrace it. He'd do the same in her shoes.

"Owww," drawled a husky voice. 

"Hm? Lúci—" the shoulder ground into her temple and she flinched away, "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

"What is on my  _ arm? _ " he tossed and adjusted until he found a constricting blood pressure cuff, "Why is it  _ squeezing  _ that hard?"

A hug slumped against him, tight and warm, but sloughed away into tearful gasps.

"Hana, c’mon. I can't comfort you right now. No really, I'm seeing colors. I'm liable to tell you anything."

She continued on, and had he not been hypovolemic he would've joined her. It took this amount of trauma and stupidity to wring some affection out of her. To have enjoyed it would’ve been manipulative, and to not would’ve been cruel, a dilemma which would've been solved if he could reciprocate with his own arms. It was suffocating. 

How could he do this to her? Why hadn't he retreated from The Widowmaker's sight line? Or waited for Hana to finish the job? That’s all that had been required of him. Now here she was- D.Va, world-renowned leader of the powerful MEKA unit- in a shambles. He felt her fingertips press firmer into his neck. He had to do something, glancing around in a panic before pecking her on top of her head, mask and all.

“It’s okay.”

"No it's not. I'm so sorry," she wiped her eyes with the insides of her wrists, "I let her shoot you. You almost died because of me, and...this isn’t going to work anymore—"

He moved his head to the side and curled his lip.

" _ Shut up. _ "

Her face grew more wrinkled and pathetic, but she found herself listening. 

"It's always 0 to 100 with you. And stop acting like you were in charge. I knew you were gonna fly in; you’d been doing it the whole night. S’why I went for it…. It wasn’t a bad idea. If nothin’ else, just know this: everything I do after you go in is on me. Because I can't control what you do, Hana." 

He saw the weight coming off, heard her breathing steady itself. 

"I should've let you take care of it...been more careful. But I didn't wanna be useless…. You know I didn't wanna go either, right? I mean, not here in Venice, but on the mission. Uhm," he trailed off at a muffled intercom announcement in an attempt to wrangle the familiar-sounding Italian into Portuguese, "Wait, uh…hold on, I can't feel my other arm."

"It's still there," she chuckled, "They had to numb it."

"Weird…. What I was trying to say was…what was I trying to— oh yeah. I wanted to say I'm sorry...for not asking you. I should've told you that sooner. Maybe if I had, then."

"I don't think it would've mattered. I wasn't going to listen or talk to you anyway. And I'm sorry for that." 

"Ahh. No worries. I want you to be with me, but only because you wanna be with me. Do you?"

“Well, you did say you’d get us a room with a view and 24-hour room service. I’d be stupid to dump a man who keeps his word.”

“Oh aren’t you the comedienne?”

Hana finally inquired about his condition. The IV had him high and listless, the only sign of discomfort being tightness and ache in his abdomen when he dragged the dead weight of his arm or even breathed. She assured him it’d be alright; Angela was on the way to get him back up to speed. They bantered around some only to be interrupted by the symptoms of hunger. Hana would wait longer for something unhealthy. She beckoned a passing nurse who left and soon served Lúcio a hot, gentle broth with a few saltine packs. He removed his mask and gave her a pack to open. She did so and handed it back to him, at which point he offered her one of the crackers. To his delight, she took it.


End file.
